


I Am Not That Stupid (Yes I Am)

by rebelmeg



Series: Rebelmeg's Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky and Clint are idiots, Cold Weather, Crack, Dare, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: Bucky has a metal arm.  It's really cold out.  I'd give you three guesses as to what Clint dares him to do, but you're only gonna need one...Written for my BBB square B5 - dares/bets
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton
Series: Rebelmeg's Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1448674
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019





	I Am Not That Stupid (Yes I Am)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ginger for being my lovely beta!

“I dare ya.”

Bucky shot Clint a Look, and his breath came out in white clouds in the below-freezing air as he said, “Do I really look as stupid as you think I am?”

Clint shot him a Look right back from under his outrageously fluffy fur cap with ear flaps. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I mean, it’s not so bad that you’re daring me to do it. What’s bad is that you really think I will.”

The object of their conversation just so happened to be Bucky’s left arm. The metal one. The metal arm that was hanging out, exposed, in the frigid air (why he didn’t have a sleeve on his parka was a mystery). Clint had just dared Bucky to lick it, seeing as how there was currently a prank war on, though neither of them had any real expectations that the dare was gonna go anywhere.

Clint wasn’t about to let it go, however. Not without giving it his all.

“I mean, I get it, you’re scared. Big terrifying assassin, scared of getting your tongue stuck to your own arm. Nonsensical, but I get it.”

“I think you’re confusing ‘scared’ with ‘not stupid enough to fall for it’,” Bucky replied dryly.

“It’s easier than you think it is, I’m sure. See, all you do is stick your tongue out like this—” Clint leaned over to demonstrate, but in the kind of cosmic demonstration of bad luck that was just part of the archer’s life, he stuck his tongue out just a bit too far, and Bucky just happened to shift on his feet at exactly that moment.

Clint’s tongue touched metal so cold it burned… and stayed there.

“Oh thuck.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “You did not.”

Clint was making a valiant effort to dislodge his tongue from Bucky’s arm, tugging back repeatedly, but only succeeding in making Bucky sway in place because his tongue was going _nowhere_.

“Did you do that on purpose?!” There was a laugh in Bucky’s voice, and Clint would have aimed a kick at him if he weren’t half bent over sideways.

“Sut up an get hewp.”

“You’re seriously stuck?” He was sniggering now, damn him.

Clint gave up all pretense of preserving his dignity, and hollered as best as he was able, “THOMEBU-Y HEWP!”

* * *

It took Natasha and Sam two trips with hot water to get Clint’s tongue off Bucky’s freezing cold arm, and the two of them were laughing themselves sick as they did it. Clint was pretty sure he left at least half of his taste buds behind, but rather than stick around to check, he decided that making himself scarce for a few days would probably be for the best. (He was right, because every time anyone had to use the tea kettle to heat up water, Natasha and Sam started cackling.)

Bucky, once he’d thoroughly scrubbed his arm, and had several laughing fits about it himself, didn’t think much about it.

At least until the next time he was outside in super cold weather.

It was like having a song stuck in his head, but instead of a song, it was an annoying voice that sounded exactly like Clint, taunting him, telling him that he had to _know_.

Bucky managed to ignore the voice for at least fifteen minutes before curiosity and a good dose of dumbassery conquered his good sense… and after giving a surreptitious glance around to make sure nobody was watching, he gave his arm a quick lick.

Or, well, it was supposed to be a quick lick.

Astounding, really, how fast a tongue could freeze to frozen metal in these temperatures…

Bucky stayed outside for a solid hour after that, ignoring the way he was starting to shiver, utterly determined to stay out there until spring if he had to, rather than let anyone know the kind of idiot he’d been. 

Although, to be fair, one person kind of deserved to see it.

He sent the selfie to Clint with the caption “I believe you now” and was almost positive that he could hear Clint howling with laughter from inside the compound.

Bucky was glaring when Clint came stumbling out into the snow ten minutes later, laughing his head off, and he ended up pouring most of the hot water he’d brought out on Bucky’s head rather than his arm.

“I hate you.” Bucky pronounced succinctly once his tongue was free.

Clint just chortled. “Come on, show me. How many taste buds did you lose?”

Bucky scowled for a second, then finally stuck out his tongue.

“Niiiiiice, you lost more than I did! Stay away from salt and vinegar chips for a few days, trust me.”

“Only you would be idiot enough to eat that kind of crap with half your tongue missing.”

“You’d think, but I also thought I’d be the only one idiot enough to get my tongue stuck to your arm in below freezing weather, and look at how wrong I was.”

* * *

“So guess what.” Bucky said offhandedly as he and Clint stood again knee-deep in the snow a couple weeks later.

“What?”

“Tony found out about our… tongue adventures—”

“Please don’t _ever_ use that term again.”

“—and figured that might be considered a bit of a hazard, so he put a little heating element chip in my arm.”

Clint gave him a sideways, slightly suspicious glance. “That’s cool?”

“Was that a pun?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Huh. Anyway, you could lick it now and you won’t stick.”

“Interestingly enough, I don’t actually go around looking for metal arms to lick.”

“Good, because they’re not that common outside the Compound.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but he was also grinning.

The two were silent for a minute, then Bucky elbowed him in the side. “Go on. You know you want to.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “I do not.”

Bucky was grinning now too, looking all kinds of smug. “Do too. I dare ya.”

“Fine. I will if you will.”

It was the world’s worst game of chicken, the two of them positioning themselves facing each other, with Bucky holding his arm up in the middle between them, both determined that they wouldn’t be the one to blink first.

“Count of three?” Bucky challenged, and Clint squared his jaw.

“One.” They both leaned in close to the arm.

“Two.”

And just as they both said “Three!”, Clint bumped Bucky’s elbow, at the same time Bucky poked Clint hard in the stomach. Clint doubled over slightly, Bucky’s arm jerked, and both tongues hit freezing cold metal. 

They both stilled, glanced awkwardly at each other from either side of Bucky’s arm.

“Aw, thuck it, nod again!”

By the time someone came out to see what the ruckus was all about, they both had partially frozen tears on their cheeks, and were clinging to the railing around the balcony to keep themselves from falling over.

Looking absolutely disgusted, Natasha turned around and went back inside, shaking her head. Sam, likewise shaking his head, snapped several pictures while a very resigned-looking Steve headed for the stove to heat up some water.

It was a full month before Bucky or Clint were able to finally taste everything again, and they celebrated with salt and vinegar chips and hot chocolate. 

The hot chocolate was a mistake.

They burned their tongues.


End file.
